It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. Hobson was not 147 amused by the situation, which handled wrongly, could lose him his job. ” “Possibly—bit by bit. . There stepped forth a tall brown man.
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